


But, peace!

by Vodkassassin



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Coronation Scene, Gen, Macbeth Act 3, References to Macbeth, References to Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodkassassin/pseuds/Vodkassassin
Summary: The feast in the wake of Macbeth's coronation, through the eyes of an unnamed character in attendance.





	But, peace!

It had been weeks since I’d last seen Macbeth, standing triumphant over the battlefield that had won him the mantle of thane. Stories and gossip of the scandal brought on by the previous holder of Cawdor’s title had run rampant for days after the news had reached them. To side with the enemy during a time of war, against your own countrymen? Such a notion was simply preposterous, and yet it had happened. My dear friend Macbeth had become a national hero because of this. His and Banquo’s perseverance against treason had brought them victory against the traitor and, more importantly, into the good graces of King Duncan himself. 

One had to wonder, however, if this newfound popularity had brought something other than honor to Macbeth. I had caught a glimpse of the soon to be king in the corridors of the Castle Dunsinane, as I and Lennox had searched for our guest quarters, and the sight of him haunted me still. Over his bravery in war, Macbeth had looked every part the determined, skilled soldier seeing righteousness. He had stood tall and bowed to no one, so certain in his loyalty to the crown and country. The man I’d seen in the halls of Dunsinane, though, was a stranger to me; he held within himself nothing familiar to the Thane Macbeth’s previous commanding posture and surety. His stance was small, as if he perhaps thought that the smaller he was, the less the world could grab hold of him and have it’s way. His center was held low to the ground as if he held the sky upon himself. His face held exhaustion in its crevices, a bone-tiredness brought upon a man by his own nightmares and paranoia. I had seen it in many a veteran soldier before; but never Macbeth, I’d thought, until now.

It was not the countenance I wished to see in my future king. Lennox, beside me, and Ross, behind us, agreed. We slept uneasily that night in our borrowed beds, minds caught in turmoil of the doubts that now plagued us. Mine, especially, ever-haunted by the gleam of sorrow and guilt I had seen in my old friend Macbeth’s eyes, and the sorrow I felt in myself that my dear fellow Banquo would be unable to attend come tomorrow.

The crowning of him came that very day after our fitful rest. I sat beside my fellow noblemen, and as Lennox and Ross whispered in hushed tones about their fears and grievances, I kept my eyes trained ahead. I hoped for another glimpse of Macbeth. I hoped that my eyes had deceived me, the evening before. I hoped that I, as well as Lennox and Ross, were wrong. 

All around us, the halls were festive in reds and golds. The fellows surrounding us mingled with one another, murmurs of celebration upon their lips. The spiced taste of roasted meat wafted up from the kitchens below us all, and I had heard many a noble beside me comment on the delicious aroma. Excitement and expectations hung heavily in the air. I myself could only feel within me trepidation for what now approached us.

Far too soon, the trumpets called their song, and we all stood on our feet. “All hail King Macbeth!” was shouted at the top of lungs, and cheers filled the room, mingling with the bright colors and beginnings of a grand feast. I’d expected myself to be relieved that we had a monarch one again, but as I warily watched Macbeth refuse the seat of the king and move forward to take food with the nobles below his new stature, the dread that sat in my gut grew heavier. My eyes hadn't been lying to me the night before. This new king of mine was a sad and burdened man that I had never met before. One must wonder where my friend Macbeth had disappeared to. I did not see him here.

Beside me, Ross gave his fellow Lennox a rough nudge in the side. The turned their attention to this stranger that now ruled us, avidly observing him as he stared at the seat he was to take, face drawn and paling rapidly. We the three of us watched on as Macbeth demanded the vacation of the seat from someone who wasn’t there. The seat, I confirmed with a sweep of my own gaze, was empty, and remained empty and Ross stood to gather the attention of the feast attendees. 

“Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well.”

The Lady Macbeth would not have it, however. She stood forth, “Sit, my worthy friends, my lord is often thus.”

I shook my head at her folly. Ross had been trying to save the two of them face, for all that the three of us considered Macbeth undeserving of it. More to us, meant out of concern for the people. They would fear if they were to know the king they now celebrated was not as just as we had all been lead to believe. Macbeth demanded the empty seat to be vacated once more, and it was now that his lady wife realized her mistake. Quickly, she ushered the crowd of us free of the feasting hall. Worry and fear shone in her eyes, though I could not know if it was for the king or their charade. However, I could not find it in myself to believe it was concern for her lord husband, and found myself saddened by this.

“Good night; and better health attend his majesty,” Lennox just barely managed to get out before the great lady moved us along. 

“A kind good night to all!” Lady Macbeth returned as she forced the doors shut behind us. 

I turned in time to witness Lennox close in speaking his fears aloud to a fellow lord. “But, peace! For from broad words and ‘cause he failed his presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hear Macduff lives in disgrace; sir, can you tell?”

I stared at Lennox, my mouth open to refute his claims; but what could I say that wouldn’t be a lie, when I myself were convinced of its truth? My friend Macbeth no longer lived among us, but a monster in his place. My mind had been made; as had, it seemed, Ross’.

I shared a glance with my noble friend, and immediately knew what Ross had planned for now. To Macduff he would journey, and I hoped from the lowest point of my heart that my last friend would remained steady in his loyalty and righteousness; that in which Macbeth had battled and so obviously failed.


End file.
